My god, i've been procrastinating like a mofo. (That doesn't make any sense, unless those who shag mothers do it because they are avoiding ridiculously pressing work, and mothers take a particular edge off, being all motherly yet kinky at the same time i reckon. I wouldn't know frankly - and not sure i want to.) What i do know is there are two papers that disappointingly are not going to be written by themselves for Monday, it's past noon on a Saturday and i am still in bed reminiscing over my 'old' blog (because i've finished stalking all my blog list, not necessarily because i am worryingly self-indulgent) (oh, who am i kidding, i am worryingly self-indulgent). To add insult to injury, it is pouring an abysmal amount of wind and rain outside, after announcing that it'll be sunny all week, which technically would encourage me to stay inside instead of trick or treating this wet evening and write these bloody damn term papers already, but all i want to do is cuddle up in bed with a cup of tea, the Guardian and a couple of DVDs if i feel like being productive at all later on.

It's always like this. When i have things to do, i start thinking about all the other things i'd rather be doing but didn't realise how enjoyable they are when i was actually doing them because, obviously, there weren't more important things to be done. When i used to live with Blondie, on mornings like today, we'd stumble to the front room, dizzy, and he'd proceed to cook a heavy English breakfast while i peruse through the Guardian that he'd gotten up earlier to get, much to my lazy protests. I love that paper though, even if that makes me one of the "left-wing nutters" as his brother teased. The Saturday issue also came with two magazines, with cultural listings and art reviews, from which i'd note all the 'cool' events across the city and forgot about as soon as i've put it down. I'd occasionally nod, distractingly, when Blondie pointed out something on the radio or the Internet, and by the time i was done with it, it was already late afternoon and none of us have gotten even dressed yet. I curse myself sometimes now for not having visited enough of London, or even the rest of Britain, when i had the chance but there is really nothing that would make me give those lazy weekends up.

I'm not sure if it's the weather (it's only midday but i need to turn on the lights it's so dark out...), or because i've been running around like a headless chicken over the past few weeks, trying to adjust to all these 'new changes' in my life, and it's only now caught up with me, this... nervousness. I've dealt enough with it to know i can cope and not to worry but... i've also dealt enough with it to know not to underestimate it. A lot of things are imperceptibly but definitely changing, in a good way (i think), but i guess i'm struggling to control it somehow. Because it's taken up speed, because things have felt stagnant for so long it's slightly scary to suddenly have it simmer, even if it's for the better. It's funny. How, reading back that old diary of mine, different it feels now from the last time i was in university. I'm shamelessly as self-indulgent and 'productive' as ever but i guess there is a perspective i have now i didn't have then that helps me understand what all this silly work means and how to do it in a way that not only allows but directs me towards the kind of life i want and the people i want in it. And that i can still want something with all my heart. Despite feeling inadequate and, um, old sometimes, i am most grateful - truly, deeply - for that.

Anyway, i'm rambling. Then again, it's been awhile since i've felt comfortable enough to waste a few precious hours farting through my fingers and i have to say, it feels grand. So i guess i'm thankful for that too.

Now, to channel it into something productive. And French. *curses!*